Not Without Hope
by Counterfeit God
Summary: Sephiroth reminds Hope of all the things he thought he'd lost. YAOI. Sephiroth/adult!Hope Vague Hope/Lightning. One shot.


A/N: Hope is a young adult in this, maybe 18-19. This is just an excuse for PWP.

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><p>Sephiroth was quite right; he had no idea what to do with it. He had gone into the situation with determination, though it was heavily marred by his usual self-doubt. Now that it was happening, he felt foolish, more than he had ever felt before. He knew his face was red, that traitorous color that left no room for doubt as to how embarrassed he was. If he had been the old Hope, he might have given up then and there, but instead he pressed on, steeled-strangely enough-by the past words of Lightning. It was odd to be thinking of her while a trail of sticky precome connected his lips to the General's more-than-adequate cock.<p>

The truth was, he couldn't stop thinking of her. Even doing this, she was at the forefront of his thoughts, like this crashing tidal wave that left nothing untainted. Perhaps lightning did strike twice, he thought sadly, enjoying the way the green eyes stared down at him, hungrily. The look was intense enough to make him want to flinch under it, but somehow he didn't. He was fascinated by it because it was so singularly focused on his own actions.

Sephiroth had reminded him so much of her from the minute they met. He was cold and distant like Light could be, but under the seemingly-impenetrable armor, there was something yielding, and a self-criticism that was so strong it would easily break a lesser person. Sephiroth was a man who expected the best of himself, who despite his self-assured manner was also uncertain. It was the hatred that scared Hope; the one thing that entirely separated Sephiroth and Light from being alike.

Sephiroth was drowning in it. Hope could sense it, though he did not know how. It was a darkness as bleak as death. The General wasn't gone, not by a long shot, but how easy it would have been for him to slip away into that dark comfort, that abyss. Hope suspected it was this evil that made the silver-haired man such a proficient killer. Honed, the darkness of the heart could be the most piercing weapon. Hope knew that well enough.

"Am I doing it right?" he questioned, swallowing heavily, savoring the foreign taste.

He could feel the slippery liquid getting caught on the back of his tongue, mucking up his breathing by tickling his throat. He didn't know that much could come out before . . . well . . . Then again, he hadn't had sex before. This was certainly more exciting than his hand, and even thinking of Light couldn't make his pants quite as uncomfortable as they were currently feeling, nor as wet. He knew there were spots on the outside of his slacks. They were black, which was their only redeeming factor. At least that way his body's unashamed desires weren't quite so blatant.

The General made a bit of a 'tsk' noise deep in his chest that came out sounding like a scolding growl. Long fingers intertwined with locks of his blond hair, gently pushing his head so that his lips were lightly touching the silky head.

"Put your teeth to it," Sephiroth commanded, his smile predatory.

Hope did as he was told, simultaneously lashing at the little slit with his tongue. It tasted of copper. Like blood. The thought didn't deter him as he worked the velvety surface with as much of his warm throat as he could provide. He could scarcely breathe, but the feeling of the General's hand urging him on made him will himself to swallow and force it deeper, even as his eyes began to water and the sensation nearly forced him to cough and choke. He did sputter, but was careful not to clamp down with his teeth. Either way, however, Sephiroth didn't seem to mind. The faster Hope took it, the more his jaw began to ache from the growing rigidness in his mouth. He couldn't stop moaning. He knew he must sound ridiculous.

It felt so good, so amazingly good. Sephiroth wasn't even touching him most of the time, yet all he felt was bliss.

When the General came, in thick, warm spurts, his pale fingers were pinching at a nipple under Hope's shirt. The blonde could feel the man's tremors, the desperate way those perfect hands clutched at him, for once needing him, _wanting_ him. Sephiroth wasn't Light, but he was close. His unavailability attracted Hope so strongly had not been able to resist the pull, even though he knew none of it would last. It was going to hurt terribly when it was over, but that was later.

There was nothing more satisfying than licking a wayward drop that dangled from the tip. The General was gazing down at him, somewhat glassy-eyed, but contented. That long hair, usually so perfect, was knotted and in disarray, sticking here and there to Sephiroth's bare chest. It was the most vulnerable Hope had ever seen him.

His heart swelled, even in the face of all the darkness that he knew simmered below the surface. It was then that he knew that all was lost.


End file.
